Tag Archives: Grad school

You see, 9 years ago, while I was in my first year of grad school, I almost died in a horrific accident. I came out of it walking, conscious and well, only some minor bruising and whiplash. But it was hard to believe I made it out alive when people saw pictures and video of the event. It was Mother’s Day 2004 and I was on my way back to my PhD lab from visiting my family. I’d spent a good week with my loved ones, nursing a broken heart. I’d seen my ex, the guy who broke my heart not once, not twice, but three times. I was broken and I wanted to die. I was pleading with God to kill me, or to align the stars so I’d be in a horrific accident and would not survive. I wanted the pain to go away. I was tired of crying myself to sleep for weeks. I think I went to bed crying every single night, from February to April of that year. I lost weight, it felt like I’d lost my reason to live … or what I though was my reason to live.

Eventually I resolved to live and rise from the depths of my depression. Millions of hearts had been broken before. I was not exceptional. I was going through a rough period that a lot of people go through when they’re in middle or high school. But since I wasn’t allowed to date until I was in college (and with restrictions!), I was experiencing my first heartbreak in all of its glory. It was awful.

Seeing my family gave me some energy. But seeing my ex and his new conquest fueled my resolve to do kick ass science. To move forward, to publish, to get my name known by important people in my field. And it definitely fueled my desire to live.

And then there was the accident. And my life changed. I remember as everything was unfolding in the longest minute of my life, asking God for forgiveness. Asking God for a chance to prove that I could do great things. I was afraid to die. I was only 22. It was not my time.

And live I did. I only went to the hospital to get a neck brace and some potent pain killers. All X-rays showed no issues or broken bones. I was embraced by my family, with tears running down their faces. They’d seen the news reports of the accident. They could not believe I was alive. They were happy to see me. I was in shock. I felt like God had listened to me. And now I had to face the pain of the broken heart, and the survivor’s guilt and I needed to move forward.

And I went back to school. I dumped all my anger, my rage, my frustration and my despair into working my tail off. And half a dozen papers came out of that. Some with lots of effort and tears, some with seemingly no effort. I eventually went to therapy to deal with some of the survivor’s guilt, with the feelings of anger I still harbored towards my ex, of the feelings of inadequacy, of the imposter. I’m pretty sure I had some PTSD, judging by the bouts of fear I had for about 1.5 years after the accident. They uncontrollable crying and lack of sleep I got moments before facing the same situation that had almost killed me. It was tough. I’m still dealing with the remnants.

I lived through a rough time when my self-worth was shot. I found love again. I found my calling in science. I found two amazing jobs after one bad postdoc. I am married. I’m an auntie. I’m healthy and I’m working on becoming physically strong.

Now, 9 years after, I am happy and thankful for being alive. I’m happy that I didn’t die on that dark day in May. I’m happy to have a family that loves me, a job that needs me and fuels my interest in science, and I am happy I have a better man, a best friend, a wonderful murse ;-). I am resolved to not go down without a fight.

Sometimes life changes in an instant. And what we thought was our happily ever after becomes a nightmare. A broken heart, a cheating ex, an accident. They all happen at once and you’re left considering the what ifs, and now whats. It is worth going forward. It can be one hell of a transforming experience. And I am happy to be able to tell it.

Four years ago, coming this summer, I had my thesis defense, quickly followed by the start of my postdoc. I remember that around this time 4 years ago, I was sick, writing the second to last chapter of my thesis and still processing data. I was also excited about joining my then boyfriend, now husband, in Canada and *finally* being together. My life seemed to be taking some shape, after being a student for the last 5.5 years. The future looked promising.

But in the back of my head, I still had some lingering doubts. I’d done two postdoc interviews, got an offer out of one, which was in a completely different discipline than the one I’d been trained in. The second interview went well, but I never got a second call. The PI phrased it as, “it’s not you, it’s me. We’re going in a different direction.” I also think he didn’t agree with all the methods we’d developed in my PhD lab to acquire and process data 10X faster than he did. Whatever the reason, I was leaving my PhD discipline behind and embarking in something new and completely foreign to me.

From the start there were signs that things were not going to go well. Most of my labmates had offices in a totally separate part of the building, and it took time to click with some of them. Others embraced me quite easily. I tried not to bother people too much and was flexible when it came to booking instruments. For the first few months I was eagerly learning how to do things and set up machines, mostly from grad students. I don’t remember the boss walking in once to check in on me. He basically left it all to everyone else to show me the ropes. And while some people would be OK with that, I wasn’t. I’d developed what I felt was a good working relationship with my PhD boss and we got along pretty well. I found myself longing for the talks we had about data and coming up with strategies to solve problems together.

Eventually I sort of grew into the rhythm of things. But I still longed for a lot of the things I had before, not only boss-wise, but lab-wise. I was stuck with a relentless bully. I was having to work on most Fridays later than everyone else, so I could work alone and not justify or be questioned by everyone and their neighbour as to why I was loading my gel like that, or why I was preparing the buffer this other way. I was tired, listless. And honey recognized the depression, the feelings of desperation, anger, frustration. The imposter syndrome was kicking into high gear.

I was able to escape that situation and found my first job as a staff scientist in the wonderful city of NY. It wasn’t easy at first. I was scared of the city, but mostly of whether I could do science after a horrendous postdoc that ended in 0 publications. I felt like a failure. Who goes into a lab and doesn’t even get into the acknowledgements, all while her fellow postdocs and grad students are publishing left and right? What was wrong with me?

I’m still looking for some of those answers. But last year, I realized, that perhaps I wasn’t THAT much of a failure after all. After collecting data for a prof in NY, a paper came out, with my name included in the list of authors. Granted, there were about 10 different authors, mostly because the project had switched hands at various points. But that little paper published in a GlamorMag-type place (well, one of its offshoots) started to give me some of my old confidence back. I felt that I was doing something worthy and that my efforts had landed me in that list of authors. That those days spent in the cold, looking at a screen for hours, waiting for results and then the ensuing long sessions of data processing, landed me there.

But that was only the start. Late last week I got an email from another Glamor-type Mag, in which again I was in the author list, notifying us that the paper had been accepted, no corrections, no third reviewer crap about this ONE more essay the MUST be conducted to maybe accept the paper. I was reading that email on my way to work and a little happy scream and dance ensued. I’m sure people thought I was nuts. Whatever. I finally felt vindicated. In the two years I’d been in NY, TWO papers had come out bearing my name. Countless other projects there had also my touch on them, most which would never make into a publication … but those two, those beautiful papers, have given me so much hope that maybe there aren’t that many things wrong with me. That perhaps it was a combination of multiple factors that led to me having 0 papers out of postdoc-land but that in the same length of time I was in that lab, I got two papers out of my previous position. I was glad, and humbled. And I was pinching myself. I felt, I feel, vindicated.

I should remember this feeling in the future, when equipment breaks, or when I’m having a hard time training someone. I am enough and I can do great things … if I’m in the right environment. Cheers!

The days are busy. My mornings usually start around 6:45, when the alarm sounds. I tend to stay in bed until 7:15. After consuming breakfast, I pack my things and drive to work. I usually stop at the torture chamber, aka the gym, and try to sweat for 30 minutes. The uni has this initiative to get you moving, so I’m trying to log in my workouts and such, and hopefully get a wellness credit, which will go towards lowering my health insurance deductible.

Every week I have no less than 2 meetings and tons of great seminars to attend … none of which I ever get to go to, because usually something poops out in the lab. The joys of managing a lab. I usually have lunch late, or wherever I can fit it. Today is the first day that I haven’t felt guilty about taking 30 minutes to consume lunch in some time. I could complain to HR about the times I get to bite into my sandwich once, only to be greeted by emails from someone in the lab who ran into some trouble. But I won’t … I usually just take care of it after eating, something, anything.

I also started taking the stairs at work, well, the ones in the parking lot. I haven’t taken the elevator up in almost two weeks!

I’m trying to eat better, and for the 4th straight week, I’ve bought lettuce. I’m finally used to eating cucumbers and after slicing them really thin, I eat some with breakfast and also with my usual dinner salad. Even honey, who’s a GREAT eater, is joining me in this endeavour to a) fit in my wedding dress and b) lose a lot of the weight I put in between 2006 and this year. But it is a lot of work. My weight fluctuates, and in the almost 5 weeks I’ve been going to them gym and being mindful of what I eat (at least during breakfast and dinner), I’ve only lost 8 pounds. Granted, I wasn’t expecting to pull a Biggest Loser type weight loss … but I’d like to get into a rhythm where I see steady losses each week. I know it takes time to undo 7 years of crapping out my body. The good things are that, by virtue of waking up early and trying to stay active, I’m sleeping a tiny bit better (not great, but a bit better) and also, the pain on my knees is almost gone. My feet are doing better, but I do need a new pair of shoes. I tried running on the treadmill the other day, but I’m still not in good enough shape, feet-wise, to endure the shock that running does to my feet. Perhaps I should see a podiatrist.

I also got tested for allergies and turns out that pollen is not a biggie, but pups and kitties do a number on my skin and respiratory system. I’m on medicine for that now and it’s possible that I am indeed asthmatic, contrary to what my PCP in NYC said. Since starting to take the medicines I’ve been feeling better and I definitely sneeze less. But I’m also cautious of not being overly affectionate with my kitty (so sad).

I’m still adjusting to getting paid once a month, just like I was in grad school. Thankfully I haven’t gone without food or gas. And I got a parking pass in the faculty side of the lot, which means I won’t need to take (as many) stairs anymore … but I will, even if it’s 7 floors less.

So far so good. That said, I do miss NYC and I do miss my labbies … they’re the best (though most of my users here are on the sane side, and even the difficult faculty member I mentioned before is behaving a tiny bit better).

This business of being a lab manager? Yeah. Real tough here, real though. I feel close to the students (in age and, sometimes, maturity) yet I’m not one of them. I can hang out with them when I’m outside the university walls … but I cannot badmouth their asshole PI(s). Just to be clear … most of the students (and the occasional postdoc) I’ve dealt with thus far, and their PIs seem pretty sane. But there’s this PI (who I mentioned in my previous post) who will give me headaches … and this person is the reason behind trying to set some boundaries for myself so that I don’t give them the impression that a) I’m slacking off because I decide NOT to work on a weekend like people in their lab do, and b) let this person understand, very clearly, that I’m not one of their students or postdocs. Things have gotten a tiny bit better, but for every step forward, we go 3 more backwards. It’s a work in progress.

Besides that, one of the tasks at hand now is to make sure that when we open the lab, it is ready to receive people and be in good (safe) conditions. This lab I’m working on used to be BSL2 lab. Some pathogens (mostly inactivated ones) were worked on here, and while the previous group cleaned up some stuff, it seems as if every time I open a shelf or drawer, there’s some … “surprise.” I went looking for some hazardous material tags the other day … and all of a sudden I find some corroded shelf with bleach and some other stuff, and no sign of the bags … well, they were there, but there was a mess. There’s also a mysterious (and kinda scary) -20 freezer that has samples from the early part of this century ie. from more than 10 years ago.

It had been my understanding that when the previous tenants of this lab were here, they had cleaned up everything, disinfected surfaces and gotten rid of all the samples and crap. Pretty much no one paid attention to freezers and other sample storage area, just to pumps and other mechanical stuff that other labs were eager to get their hands on. And now I’m stuck with a bunch of machines that don’t work, that environmental health has to cart away, and I have a couple of PIs over my shoulders, saying that it is my responsibility to clean up the lab and make it pretty for when they new users come. Yeah, that in addition to preparing samples, writing standard operating procedures for everything that has a switch or a light of some sort and stock it full of pretty little things for their trainees to play with, I need to clean up the lab. Now, I probably sound like a baby … but it is a lot of work that I have to get done … and it must be done by myself alone as no one else will pony up time to help or sort through things. I know, I know, I signed up for this … but it is truly a pain that the previous tenants only cleaned up the surface of things and left everything else to be taken care of by the new tenants. I think it’s pretty inconsiderate. Also, it makes me wonder why environmental health (or if) they have some sort of procedure for situations like this. If they’re supposed to certify labs, then I wonder if someone is slacking off somewhere.

This business is tough, and I’m the face of my lab, according to all sorts of letters and emails circulating amongst my gazillion bosses. I’m glad to make this lab look awesome, but it takes time. So, I beg you dear reader, should you be a PI or fellow lab manager and are about to move elsewhere, take time to walk around the lab and make sure that everything has been properly disposed of before you leave. Make sure things are bagged and tagged. I don’t know if you get charged or not, but please don’t leave your previous lab space looking like a pig pen. It is not a nice, or safe practice, especially for those before you. And for the love of all that is good and wonderful, have some policy as to what happens to reagents and crap people need to make to get their science done and they leave. Whether is not signing off on their thesis until they’ve bagged and tagged stuff or have at least left some record of where the samples are and are mindful of stuff they may leave behind .. have something in place to take care of the insane amounts of buffer or reagents that accumulate through the years. There’s nothing better than seeing a semi-legible tag on something and find out that it’s from 4 generations of grad students before your time. NOT!

I’m feeling much better, compared to when I posted this. I went to my initial visit with a new PCP in new job city and it went well. In fact, I didn’t want the visit to end. The doctor is about my age, female and explained everything in detail and in a reassuring manner and tone which was super helpful. She asked about all meds I’ve taken and what I needed refills for and I’m happy to report that I’m back on my PMS med and, while still adjusting, I feel like it’s making a change. I know, it’s a bit too soon to celebrate and it could all be related to having my period (which usually sours my mood even more a few days before and once I get over the initial cramping, it’s all smooth riding). But I am glad I’m back on my med. I’m also seeing her in about a month to get my annual pap-smear and I just learned that school offers free mammograms to staff, so maybe I should take advantage of that … even though it’s not necessary at my age, I would still like to have some sort of baseline and just check that everything is normal.

Thinking back to how I felt on Thursday and Friday night, I felt so defeated. I’d spent Monday, Thursday and Friday working non stop trying to get some preliminary data for a project. One of my many supervisors (I have more than one, all with similar opinions on some things but most definitely different priorities) needed some data and I agreed to give it a shot. What I should have said and remembered based on my experience from NYC, was that this would really be very tough to work on, especially with only a month to really evaluate things. Little by little I became more aware of the mounting difficulties and finally on Friday, something broke in the lab, and that was definitely the end of trying to collect the data for said grant. My next supervisor in line is somewhat of a nazi. In the month or so I’ve been at work he’s already caused problems that have found their way into my ears and I’ve really come to know that this will be a very difficult person to work with (I already told hon I regretted coming back based on the bit of drama this person initiated). My other PI is very chill, though can be demanding. This person is also very hands off and seems to have respect and trust in my abilities. As long as they intervene I can keep doing my job just fine … but who knows how much this person can protect me and how long they can be that way without getting their asses in trouble.

Here’s the thing … in NYC my immediate supervisor absorbed a lot of the heat if my coworker or I got in trouble. But here I am all alone and I am in the same position as my supervisor, and the lab I’m working in is in worse shape than I thought. And there are things I don’t know how to do and I’m learning … but nazi PI wants them done yesterday. And that has caused a lot of trouble and stress I wasn’t ready for.

Now, my husband is kind of a genius, but sometimes can say things too bluntly and in his interest to preserve my sanity and well-being, he can get riled up. So he’s trying a new strategy of communicating his concern for me, and it’s sort of working. On Friday night we were talking about how much of a frustrating day I’d had. Not only did I have to see my PCP and try to work on the prelim data, but I also had to work with nazi PI and make sure that some plant services people fixed something in the lab. In other words, I was being stretched to my limit .. and I was running low on patience, plus I was feeling a little (or a lot) out of it … I was out of my mood med and I didn’t know it, but my period was rearing its ugly head. It was the perfect storm. I spent exactly 12 hours at work trying to fix problems, either on the phone, in person … hell, I even emailed a coworker to place an order while my doctor was getting some paperwork done outside of the exam room!! In what world is that acceptable? Couple that to the fact that I’m supposed to have a 40-45 min break during the day (by law, if the uni found out I didn’t take it I could get in trouble) … all while trying to remain sweet and competent.

By the end of the night I was shot. I was looking at my blog stats and saw that more people kept coming, that more people were following on Twitter … and that while both the blog and Twitter are great outlets, I just didn’t have time to sit down and write my story …. this, plus all the bullshit at work, plus the PMS combined to make me feel down, depressed … like I was out of hope. My incredible super husband came to rescue, reminding me that I had to set boundaries and rules, that it is OK to take time to enjoy these outlets, that I’m better and more relaxed when I take time to focus on myself and that if my PIs have my best interest at heart, they’ll understand that you can’t keep going 24-7. And that yes, I have a laundry list of things to do to keep the lab running … but it’s not a sustainable model to stay in the lab for 12 hours straight, most days of the same week, having worked for 13 days before that non-stop. The way he said it sounded different than other times. Other times he’d let his frustration out and I felt like he was picking a fight, rather than being supportive. He said that talking with his mom had given him the idea to approach things differently … and it did go differently and it did sink in.

In NY my lab stayed open from 9 to 6. Sometimes we’d stay late and I did stay overnight one time. But, it wasn’t the norm, and I didn’t go to the lab on weekends. There were clear boundaries for the times I was expected to work. Here, since the lab is getting off the ground, there’s a lot of stuff to do and make happen … lots of things I’m trying to figure out … all while keeping 3 bosses (and counting, I’m sure there are more to come) happy. This is tough and it gets frustrating, because I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to get everything done (I’ve been texting my supervisor in NY, telling him how much more I appreciate all he did for me and for the lab). But now that I’m starting, even if I can’t do everything the overlords want when they want it … to keep some sense of sanity and normalcy, I have to set ground rules as far how much time I can spend at work and what gets solved while I’m there. One of my new job resolutions is to let people know that they can expect to have me present from 9:30am to 6pm, 5 days a week. That I am more than happy to help, but they have to let me know, I have too many things on my plate to just dump everything and come to their rescue at the last minute. I will try my best not to work on weekends, while keeping my cell phone at hand, should someone encounter a problem. I realize that I’m the first line of defense when it comes to instrumentation breaking. I promise to get things done and crossed off my to do list as often as I can, and to ask for help. And also to confront nazi-PI, should things ever get as nasty as they seemed to get this week. If I am to make this place work and people be happy and productive, they need to know that I need to have some control and that there are ground rules … otherwise I’m just their pawn … and then the resentment and frustration takes the best of me.

I also plan to stick to going to the torture chamber (g-y-m), eat a bit better and listen to the hubs when he tries to help out. I’m feeling much better, despite of the coming challenges I’m facing this week. We shall see how things go. Thanks for staying put and for your encouragement.

That is the question my dearest husband asked me yesterday. He wanted to know what are my impressions after being at the new job a few weeks in. First, I want to tell you that this week I’ve effin’ earned my salary. The first few days I was dealing with a lot of admin stuff, but this week started me off with finally getting my hands on instrumentation and working on it and through my frustrations with it for the first time since I left NYC. And gosh darnit, it has been tough. As I get familiar with one of my toys again and show a new crop of grad students and postdocs how to work with said toy, I realize that what I’m doing is hard work and I hope I can make it work and keep people happy or at least keep the instruments working so they can get the science done. And that’s is one huge responsibility.

But that aside, being at the new job has been interesting. In my previous entry I mentioned how people at work seem overly nice and concerned about keeping me happy. And how that freaked me out. Truth be told, I’m happy they’re making an honest effort to keep me happy and to make sure that everything I need, from office supplies, to gadgets for my toys … that every need for the lab (and for me) is covered so I can do my job. During the new employee orientation I heard someone say that one of the mottos of the organization is that they will give you the tools to get the mission accomplished, it is up to you to pony up the man/brain power. And I’ve seen that in full display during these last few weeks. This is something I definitely lacked as a postdoc, and in some instances missed in NY due to budget constraints (well, a stingy boss, truth be told).

With that said, I do miss NYC and my coworkers greatly. I’m still not over it and I don’t think I will for some time. In weeks like this one, where I get battling with an instrument and a specific piece of software I didn’t understand, I really, really missed them. I don’t have anyone to bounce ideas off of here, other than grad students and postdocs, and they have their own labs, projects and responsibilities. I’ve been told this week, on more than one occasion, that I’m putting too much pressure on myself. That I’m starting and that they don’t expect me to know everything, but that they know I’ll grow into my role in time. For now they’re happy to have someone full time and available when there are questions about how a particular piece of equipment. But I can’t help but feel the pressure, since I was in their shoes and in the lab I’m running a long time ago. I feel like it is expected of me to know they little details and the big picture that are needed to keep this core lab running.

Then, on the rare occasion I venture to Twitter, I see this and this. And it makes me think about my own career so far. My 6 years as a grad student, my two as a disgruntled postdoc, my almost two as a staff scientist, and now as lab manager.

During that disgruntled period of my life, many times I asked myself if I could see a career in the TT as my ultimate goal. My answer was always no. I’ve seen the sacrifice that many people make, from singletons, to people in committed, long term relationships, with and without progeny. I simply realized that if I felt overwhelmed, exhausted and pissed, without having kids, or writing R01 apps lefts and right, then the TT was definitely not for me. And I can say, with an honest heart that I don’t regret my decision. I still work my tail off, like this week, but I don’t depend on grant money to feed both my lab and the mouths of those that work with me. That is a responsibility I cannot see myself fulfilling. And I am more than OK with that. That isn’t to say that I do not admire PIs, I seriously do. The more I see the hurdles they have to jump through to keep a lab running, even when facing lack of money or publications, while maintaining a relationship with their families outside the lab, and attending recitals and soccer games, and dealing with admin bullshit and government cuts. My admiration for PIs knows no bounds.

And I can tell you that even as a staff scientist, I’ve pondered, like Isis has done, whether I see myself doing this for the rest of my life …. being a staff scientist, a lab manager, for the next 30 to forty years. That people, is a shit ton of time.

My own path into academic research wasn’t all straight all the time. Sure, I finished my undergrad and quickly started in a grad program. But during the years I was in grad school, I asked myself questions as to what I’d do in the future, once I stopped being a grad student. But I didn’t really face that beast until my very frustrating postdoc. And joining my previous job was an amazing eye opening experience that showed me that my love for the field of structural biology is real, that my PhD wasn’t a fluke (even when during weeks like this one I question whether I learned to do stuff right), and that I can help steer a lab in the right direction, with the right PIs above my head.

But still, I do on occasion wonder if I’ve made the right choice, and whether, should honey and I ever reproduce, my job career will be compatible with said choice. Even without kids, I wonder whether my job, with all its responsibilities, is compatible with hon and I hopping on a car or plane and going away for the weekend to explore a new city. I consider that an important part of our relationship, and something I want to continue to do. But as a lab manager, and as the first point of contact between the university and my PIs and the instrumentation and the service people I’m basically on-call 24-7, I’m kind of the emergency physician of my lab and should something go wrong while we’re away enjoying Charleston, or Lexington, or New Orleans, I can’t simply forget about my responsibilities as manager.

As it is I’m now carrying my phone with me everywhere I go. I answer emails while eating at Chipotle, text students and postdocs with answers about equipment, and have had to juggle meeting with three people in a time span of 5 minutes, all wanting something different from me. If this is a preview of what’s to come … then I’m in it for quite the ride of my life. And while I have the stamina right now and the drive to go from room to room, instrument panel to instrument panel and sit down and babysit students and instruments, there will be a time when I won’t be enough for it all. I saw it with my supervisor in NYC. The man could do 15 things at a time, yet he faced our boss who always had a complaint or issue, who had a particular vision on how to do things, but hardly any grasp on the difficulty to set them in motion. All while having a small kid and a baby and a wife to take care of. I saw the bags under his eyes and I tried making him laugh as often as I could … but even then, he wasn’t enough and it was/is hard on him. Am I just as strong and driven as he is? Do I care enough about my new lab and my fellow users to make sacrifices? And will my honey resent me, should I choose them over him on occasion? Is this a lifestyle I can thrive in and be successful for years to come?

I have no idea and I am scared. I know that the pipeline is leaky and I don’t believe in the work/life balance. To me that’s simply BS, something always gives (or has to), and most of the time it ends up being the family. And I don’t want to see that happen. I don’t want to be like one of my last mentors who would show up at home at midnight, then be back in the lab by 9am, not have dinner with their spouse, only to end up divorced.

These are all important questions to answer, I just don’t know how for now. I hope I can figure some of it out, and that when it comes to choosing work or family, I will find a happy medium …. if that is possible at all.

It fills me with great joy to have my loving honey tell his side of the story (and the back story which I always find even more irresistible than the engagement!) of our engagement. I thank you my love for agreeing to write this and have everyone read it, and I’m excited to have you as my partner and life-long companion. Te amo <3

Honey’s side of the story:

For seven years we endured the dreaded routine questions: “So, when are you guys finally getting married?” and “When are you going to have kids?” There was always that emphasis on “finally”, as if life has no meaning without the piece of paper from the church or the state or without any offspring. Many times I told the Doc that we should just live together forever without getting married just to spite people. She would agree with me openly, but I always suspected that, privately, she did not like that idea.

The truth of the matter is that I never really planned on going through with my “fuck-the-people” idea. I mean, yes, I certainly wanted to spite people, but not at our own expense. The Doc and I had had conversations about our future and our relationship and we always knew that marriage was in our horizon. However, we were not going to follow other people’s timetables. We would do it when we thought it appropriate.

I started thinking seriously about marriage when I finished writing my dissertation. The Doc and I have had to put our life together on hold so many times because of graduate school and work. If you’ve been following the Doc’s blog, you know by now how many times we’ve had to do the long-distance routine. But, at last, I had no other responsibilities, no other obligations. There were no dissertations, or postdocs, or bosses to keep us apart anymore. We could finally plan to move to the same place, permanently, and think about our little family unit (the Doc, the Kitteh and meh) in the long term. In March or April of 2012, then, I began contemplating the possibility of submitting an official proposal of matrimony for the Doc’s peer-review.

Before moving on to the story of the actual proposal (which is probably more like a “behind-the-scenes”), I would like to clarify something the Doc wrote in her account. She wrote, and I quote: “but he also said that although we’re in a relationship of equals, he still wanted to do the proposal the ‘right way’”. No, I NEVER said that (note from the Doc: oh yes he did, and I have the DMs to prove it). I never explicitly or implicitly expressed my approval for traditional gender roles that mandate that the man has to propose marriage. Never. I would’ve reviewed favourably any marriage application she submitted my way. However, as progressive as the Doc is, she does come from a rather conservative background. She has certain conservative hangups that I try to respect because we all have some of those. After all, we’re born and bred into these puritanical societies and though we try to evolve and swim against the current, certain things just stick with us. So what I said was that I would respect this particular expectation of hers and I would be the one who proposed. Okay, now I feel better.

When the Doc and I first started going out together, I told her that there were two things I didn’t give as gifts: clothing or jewelery. There were two main reasons behind this decision: 1) I have no money to buy jewelery and 2) clothing and jewelry are very personal things that put pressure on the person who receives them. I don’t mean pressure as in commitment, but as in “when-are-you-going-to-wear-that-beautiful-fake-leather-jacket-with-the-oversized-clowns-and-the-matching-neon-aluminum-earrings-I-bought-you” kind of pressure. I’ve wavered a little bit on this throughout our seven year relationship. Every now and then I get her a pair of earrings from a trip or a shirt from a store she really loves. But they’re usually small items that I’m positive she’ll like and on the off-chance she doesn’t, I didn’t spend my life savings on it. Nonetheless, this time was different. I had to get her something she would like. I would feel terrible if she forced herself to put on an engagement ring she hated just because it was special to me. There was no other way around it: she had to be involved in the process.

I would have preferred to be able to hit a home run on my own. I would love to tell you that I absolutely picked the perfect engagement ring without any word from the Doc at all: I surprised her, she fainted and when she woke up she screamed: “HE WENT TO JARED!” But, no, alas, that’s not how it happened (and for the record, even with an unlimited budget I would have never gone to Jared). I had started to save some websites she had sent me with rings she liked (she did this sometimes out of the blue – *hint hint*). But instead of saving these websites on a social bookmarking site like Delicious or Evernote, I relied on the lazy Firefox Bookmarks. This was a fatal mistake. My computer died in August and took with it all my bookmarks. I was back to square one. I didn’t have any of the rings she liked and I wasn’t sure I could recognize them. So I had to nudge her to send me more. After 7 years of never getting her any real jewelery, I could think of no way to do this without arousing her suspicions. So, instead of fighting it and trying to surprise her, I went the opposite way: drown her in so many rings, she wouldn’t have any idea which one she was getting. I started asking her for rings, I sent her rings, I sent her catalogs, I sent her stores from ETSY; I just had an avalanche of rings everywhere.

Of course, she got suspicious. She would ask why the sudden interest and I lied saying that since I finally had a little bit of money (I started teaching my first master’s course in the fall), I wanted to get her a nice present. It’s not a great excuse, I know. But you can’t really fool the Doc. She watches crime shows 24/7. She is incredibly observant. She’s almost psychic! The ONLY way to fool her is to not say a single word. The best gifts I’ve given her have been like that: total silence up until the moment where I deliver. That wasn’t an option this time.

So after sifting through hundreds of rings, I finally found one that complied with all of our criteria (both hers and mine): it was a beautiful hand-crafted ring with no conflict stones, no gaudy jewels and would not force either of us into debt. Once I made up my mind, I tried to buy the ring as soon as possible. Alas, it was a little bit more complicated than that. As soon as I clicked “check out” on the website, I was told by a very polite announcement that the seller did not ship to my “backwater piece of shit country” (I may be paraphrasing a little bit). So, even though I was a bit indignant at the fact that the seller did not ship to my country, I still wanted that particular ring. I knew the Doc would love it. I emailed the seller and explained my predicament. The seller turned out to be a very nice woman who was open to changing her shipping options. This, of course, made me feel better about supporting a business that did not want to ship to my country in the first place. She was very helpful and polite. Finally, I had the ring.

But then there was another problem. Where to do this? I wanted a place that was private but not deserted. I live in a very dangerous country and I did not want to become a headline on the local newspaper. I knew I didn’t want to do it in a restaurant, because restaurants are crowded and noisy and cliched. So, I thought about many different places, but even though I had a few finalists, none of them seemed to really grab me. One day, out of the blue, I started thinking about the most breathtaking views in my town. I live in a coastal town, so there are bound to be some pretty sights. But I could not think of one that met my criteria. However, in a moment of divine inspiration, I remembered this beautiful little chapel on top of a mountain that overlooks the entire coastal area. Of course! How could I forget! This is the best view here.

I was a little skeptical about proposing in church ground because the Doc and I have our reservations about our religion at the moment. Nonetheless, I owed it to both of us to go and at least check it out and see if the place was, in fact, a good spot for a marriage proposal. I decided to go there at around 5 pm a few days before the Doc was set to arrive. When I got there, I immediately knew this would be the spot. I don’t mind telling you, I got very emotional at that point. I didn’t cry, but a sense of peace and happiness came over me. I knew I had found the place. (BTW, I forgot to mention that when I received the ring in the mail and saw it for the first time, I did cry. I was overjoyed, because I knew she would love it).

The next step was figuring out how to propose. I wanted to do something that was representative of me and, at the same time, allowed me to convey to the Doc everything I wanted to tell her. So I decided to make her a video card. I had done this early on in our relationship and never again. But I thought it was appropriate this time around because 1) I’m a media professor, and 2) there were many things I wanted to say and I wanted to make sure I got to say them. I wrote and created a video called: “7 years, 7 reasons” and in it I detailed the 7 top reasons for us to get married (although I never once mentioned the word ‘marriage’ in the video because I wanted to ask her that myself). After creating the video, I put it on my Nook to show it to her while we were there in the most beautiful place in our neck of the woods.

There were some other details that needed planning, but they’re not really interesting and I’ve dragged on long enough so I will just mention them. I tried to plan a very nice evening that would follow the proposal, but everything I could think of was almost impossible to do in this part of the country. So, I had to make do with what we have.

I had told the Doc to set December the 26th aside because I wanted us to go on a date. It had been two months since we last saw each other, so I wanted to take her out for a proper date; a night just for the two of us. In case you’re wondering, I didn’t choose the 26th because of any particular significance. The Doc arrived here on the 25 and I wanted to give her a little space before taking her out, but I also wanted to give her the beautiful ring as quickly as possible. I was dying to see her reaction.

When the 26th finally came, I prayed to the gods to hold off on the rain. I live in a very, very rainy place and it always comes down in the worst possible moments. The gods heard me (for the most part). When I went to pick her up at her house, the clouds were dark and they had begun to cry a little bit. I was worried that the rain would mess up our moment, but my mother had told me: “Don’t worry. It will be very special regardless. All you need is the Doc, you and the words. Everything else is a bonus”. I tried to not worry about it, but I am always a panicky mess.

When we got there, the droplets of water were the least of our concerns. One of the nuns in charge of the chapel told us that they were closing the gate. I was flabbergasted. I had done a dry run at around the same time and I had seen no one trying to close the gate. It wasn’t even an actual closing time. It wasn’t 5:30 or 6:00, it was 5:42 or some such nonsense. So I put my best puppy eyes and told her that we wanted to visit the chapel briefly, that the Doc had flown in from another country and she was counting on it. And the nun took pity on me and told me that she would close up and to just tell her when we were done so she could open the gate. It turned out to be even better, because we were the only ones in the mount. We sat by a bench behind the little chapel that overlooked all the trees, the sky, the coastline and everything else that God had given us that day. I showed her the video while I held her close and while the sky spit at us a little bit. When the video finished, I tried to speak. The tears began streaming down my face, and my voice began trembling. I never thought this moment would overwhelm me so much. But there I was, staring at my partner for the last seven years and giving her a pretty, small box that had a ring we both picked out (even if she didn’t know which one she was getting). Through my tears, I asked her if she wanted to form a family with me, a question I now feel wasn’t appropriate because she is already family. But, nonetheless, she understood. Like so many times before, she understood.

After she put on the ring and kissed me, we went off to start the rest of our date; to commemorate the night we told each other “You’re the only one I want.”

So my lovelies, there you have it … the story of hon’s marriage proposal (with some juicy behind the scenes details on how it all went down). I thank Mr. Honey for agreeing to share his side of the story. We’ll keep you posted on the wedding preparations and hopefully a picture or two (not showing faces of course) will be shared when the moment comes.